


Ashes, Ashes, We All Fall Down

by euphemitter



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Gangsters, Angst, Drug Use, Drugs, Gang Violence, Gangs, Implied/Referenced Underage Prostitution, M/M, Mobsters, Multi, Murder, Prostitution, Recreational Drug Use, Smut, Underage Prostitution, Violent Sex, mafia
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-26
Updated: 2016-09-26
Packaged: 2018-08-11 02:12:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,416
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7871734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/euphemitter/pseuds/euphemitter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Inspired by a prompt messaged to me on my tumblr by an anon.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Corrupt Cupidity

Yuta rubbed his eyes as he stared into the clouded mirror. His ratty old shirt hung off his frame, fabric worn thin from being stretched. The light inside the dingy bathroom was dim, but there wasn’t any need for any light for Yuta’s hand to find the familiar bottle in the little medicine cabinet. 

 

Greedily, with unsteady hands, he unscrewed the lid. Above his head, the mildewed light flickered. 

 

He erratically shook the jar until some pills fell out onto his clammy palm, and he sighed unhappily when he felt how light the bottle was. Yuta frustratedly screwed the lid back onto the bottle before throwing the pills back dry. 

 

“Yuta, hurry the fuck up in there!” an annoyed voice called out from outside, hands banging on the door. He hastened his movements in response.

 

Before walking out of the bathroom, he swallowed a few more times, waiting for the pills to unstick themselves from the back of his parched throat. Yuta walked around his room, haphazardly relocating things out of habit when he had nothing else to do. A magazine here, a shirt there, and Yuta felt the familiar feeling of serenity seep through his body. 

 

It wasn’t quite enough to sate him, he decides, and he fumbles through all the pants that were discarded in the discreetly positioned laundry basket. There was a half-empty pack of cigarettes in one of the pockets, and Yuta pulls it out along with the lighter inside.

 

He went back to the living room and pushed one of the windows open before flouncing over to an armchair and lying down, legs swung over one armrest and head lolling over another. Yuta lit the cigarette, taking a deep drag out of it before letting his arm hang loosely over the side of the chair.

 

The lights aren’t on in the brothel, and the tree just outside the window was blocking anything from entering. It was pitch black- and cold, he noticed from the frigid wind blowing in through the window.

 

Fucking winter, Yuta thought drowsily. The cigar smoke permeating the air was making him feel tired, and he felt almost relieved when a particularly strong gust of wind blew out the little embers embedded in his cigarette. 

 

\--

 

“Get the hell up,” a voice rasped in Yuta’s ear. He jolted awake, cigarette falling out of his hand. His head was pounding and his throat hurt, but he clambered up out of the chair and stood in front of his procurer.

 

“Someone bought you from me,” he casually brought up in a light tone of voice. “Eight million won. I didn’t think you were worth that much, but,” the procurer shrugged, “everyone views things differently, as they say.”

 

Well, that was surprising, but Yuta kept his face completely neutral. Was this is a test? He sure as hell wasn’t worth eight million, but then he knew that the procurer knew he wasn’t stupid enough to fall for a trick like that. 

 

So it really was time for him to move out of this overcrowded shithole into another one, although perhaps it wouldn’t be right to jump to conclusions about where he was heading. After all, eight million won wasn’t something to joke around about.

 

There were people around them, trying to be discreet about eavesdropping on their conversation. Judging by the scowls on their faces, they were definitely pissed that Yuta had been sold off- especially to a seemingly wealthy owner. Of course, they wouldn’t say anything in front of the procurer, but Yuta knew how it felt.

 

“Go to my office, bitch,” the man growled, giving scathing looks to the people nearby. Yuta avoided their gazes as he followed his procurer, mind void of any thoughts.

 

He held the door open for Yuta before slamming it shut, making him flinch. The flimsy plaster door wouldn’t really prevent anyone from listening in, but it could still afford them a mild sense of privacy. Awkwardly, Yuta kneeled on the ground and kept his head lowered, awaiting information. He heard the sound of papers rustling around on the desk in front of him and the squeaking of the procurer’s chair.

 

“So… This purchase was made by a Master Lee,” Yuta heard. “Honestly, none of the specifics given were… specific. It seems like a pretty official deal, though. Bloodwork and all that,” the procurer drawled. “You’re getting upgraded to being some rich motherfucker’s personal pet, it seems. But no matter. Eight million won for a whore like you is a pimp’s dream come true.”

 

Yuta’s heart clenched. He was literally getting sold off to someone the procurer didn’t seem to have any information on at all. No age, no profession, not even a fucking location.

 

“Later today, someone’s gonna be here to pick you up. Go on, now, tidy up your room,” the man ordered, shooing Yuta out of the office.

 

\--

 

“The little runt is being sold off,” someone sneered loudly as Yuta walked across the cramped living room. The insults fell upon deaf ears, and Yuta hastened his footsteps. He had learned a long while back that it wasn’t like the others could hurt him. 

 

He rushed back to his room and closed the door behind him. The room was pretty barren, since all he really had were clothes and makeup. But cleaning up wasn’t really what was on his mind right now. He had just been fucking  _ purchased _ , presumably by a crusty, wealthy old man- how the hell could he even think about  _ cleaning up _ ? His nerves were jittery and he needed to calm himself the fuck down.

 

Yuta stared the little clock he had on a drawer. Plenty of time to chill before he was taken away, he thinks, as he exits the room and walks into the nearby bathroom down the hall, locking the door behind him.

 

He dumps the rest of the jar out onto his palm and tosses them back, throwing the pill jar into the trash. It wasn’t like he would need it after he moved. Yuta sinks down onto the grimy floor, milky, bare thighs flush against the cold tiles. 

 

He thinks about nothing blissfully, fingers lazily tracing random patterns on his legs. Yuta wished life would always feel like this- a void of nothingness with only him. A place where he didn’t have to feel anything anymore; his own little paradise.

 

Someone screams at him to  _ get the fuck out  _ of the bathroom after some time passes, and something within him tells him to retort for interrupting his rest, but he holds his tongue and gets up. He swings the door open and stumbles out on numb legs, completely disregarding whoever was outside. Yuta returns to his room and falls onto the ground after kicking the door shut. 

 

His next door neighbor was fucking  _ really damn loudly _ and it made Yuta’s ears hurt. He irritably pulled his pillow over his head in an attempt to shut the noise out, to no avail. 

 

… So this was how his last day at the hell he had been trapped in for most of his life was going to go, he thinks almost mirthfully. He was going to get high and sit in his room, listening to the person next door get fucked for God knows how long. Then, he was going to clean up and book it out of there, and that would be it. Everything would go smoothly, and he would be able to see a glimpse of the outside world for a moment only to be taken back into another cage. Yeah, everything would be fine, he thinks dazedly.

 

After a while, he dragged himself up and searched through his closet for something more suitable to wear. Yuta felt like he dressed better whenever he was high, so he may as well.

 

When he deemed himself presentable, it was already an hour past noon. Perhap he had taken a bit longer than expected, but it wasn’t like he cared. He felt like shit, since the pills’ effects had already worn off, but he still needed to pack up his things.

 

Sluggishly, he haphazardly transferred the contents inside his closet into a large bag that he found that he completely forgot he owned. Yuta filled the smaller pockets with makeup and perfume, as well as a few cigarettes. The bag was stuffed to the brim, seams straining. Maybe his new master would take pity on him and buy him a new one.

 

After that, he paced around the room until his feet hurt and his head spun. He anxiously stared at the clock every minute, as if it could magically make time move faster. 

 

When the knock at the door came, he immediately stood up and grabbed his bag. His procurer stood at the door, waiting.

 

“They’re here,” he rasped. And Yuta was off.


	2. A Place to Hide

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuta meets his master.

The sun shone on Yuta’s face and he squinted, not accustomed to how bright it was. The sky was blue, bluer than he remembered, and there wasn’t a cloud to be seen. He had only seen the outside through the tiny little window that was obstructed by bars.

 

It was beautiful, and he stood there, his bag in his hand, staring up at it. The gnawing feeling of the pills wearing off seemed to have disappeared in the face of the sun. 

 

His procurer had halfheartedly sent him off, rotted teeth flashed at him, crooked, jaundiced fingers waving at him, as if he had only ever been a guest who had merely been visiting. It made Yuta want to tow him out onto the street and murder him in some bloody, gruesome way, seeing him act like everything that happened wasn’t  _ his fault _ , like it wasn’t a big deal.

 

Outside, there was a trimly dressed man whose face was completely unremarkable, the sort with nothing memorable to look at. At the very least, his face was more easy on the eyes than his procurer's had been, Yuta thinks resentfully. The man gave him a slight smile, and he reflexively smiled back, pulling his eyes away from the sky. “Master… Nakamoto, was it?”

 

He nodded hesitantly at that. _Master?_ He thought, bewildered. It was a strange thing to be hearing off of someone else’s tongue, _master_. 

 

“Please enter the car when you’re done, master,” he murmured, and Yuta jolted, realizing there was, in fact, a car awaiting him. The way he was being treated now by somebody who was probably just his master’s driver made him… confused. Never mind, it must have been his mind making him think things that weren’t there. His hands itched for more pills to take his mind off of things.

 

From what Yuta could tell, the car seemed to be quite expensive, with the smell of leather emanating from it. He fidgeted before getting inside the vehicle, distantly thinking he would ruin the cream-colored seat somehow. The driver didn’t spare him a glance, staring straight ahead through the nearly black tinted window.

 

As soon as he shut the door, the driver started the ignition and pulled away from the side of the road. Yuta tucked his bag neatly underneath his legs, Only when he drove onto the main road, a dusty, unpaved gravel path, did Yuta realize how remote the area surrounding the brothel was. Aside from trees, there was grass. Aside from grass, he thought dismissively, there were whores. And more grass.

 

He couldn’t tear his eyes from the small building that was fading away, further and further, until all he could see was a blank horizon, where the undeveloped road vanished into a point. It all felt so sudden, Yuta thought. It felt like it had only been a few days ago when he had been first locked up in the brothel, and now he was off to a new owner’s home. He didn’t even know if he was happy, sad, or angry to have been sold off, since he knew it could tell that it would just entail unlimited sessions of mindless fucking with some choleric, filthy rich old fuck who had too much time to spend before going to hell. It all sounded disgusting, but he reminded himself that he had been over being squeamish years ago.

 

He sighed quietly, staring out the window. Road signs whipped by far too quickly for him to read, and he gave up on trying to decipher the text on them.

 

Yuta hesitantly gazed over at the driver, who didn’t seem to want to make any attempt to talk, so he gazed back out of the window, almost feeling relieved for his taciturnity. He didn’t feel like trying to make conversation. There was music- classical, Yuta wanted to say- playing softly in the background, so it wouldn’t be too quiet.

 

They drove for what felt like a long time on the unpaved road, before the driver made his way onto a larger road. Yuta stared out the window the entire time, basking in the gentle, welcoming warmth of the winter sun. That, along with the feeling of being on the car, was making him drowsier and drowsier. Yuta forced himself to stay awake as the car moved along the highway.

 

Instead of endless miles of abandoned vegetation, now, there were weathered brick walls lining the paved highway and beyond that, domineering skyscrapers towering over the concrete. It was a sight Yuta hadn’t seen since… before he became what he was, and seeing it again, all of a sudden like this, made a lump form in his throat.

 

He tore his eyes away from his window and lowered his head, letting his bangs fall over his eyes as he directed his mind elsewhere to regain his composure. Somewhere in his heart, a soft voice asked him if he would prefer to be back in the brothel, where at the very least he would be comfortable. At the very least, he would have his little prescription bottle with him, so even if he wasn’t comfortable, he would  _ make _ it seem like it was.

 

After two songs finished playing, he raised his head again. He was met with a traffic light on red, and he stared at it until at last, it flickered yellow, then green. The driver stepped on the gas pedal and the car resumed driving.

 

They were in a ritzy commercial district, sunlight reflecting blindingly off of the clustered skyscrapers’ windows. There were a few people walking up and down the streets, hands gripping tightly onto precariously thin paper shopping bag handles. It gave off a very deserted feeling.

 

The driver took a couple more turns, approaching one of the skyscrapers and turning into the private parking lot near the building’s entrance. All of the cars parked in the lot were of a similar appearance to the one Yuta currently rode in; glossy, luxury cars with dark exteriors and blackened windows. He peered outside the window, trying to get a glimpse of what the inside of the building looked like.

 

So this was where Master Lee lived in. It was no less than what Yuta expected to see, that was for sure. 

 

The driver turned off the ignition and got out of the car, gesturing for Yuta to do the same. Together, they walked past the guards watching the entrance, the driver nodding in acknowledgement to them. He could feel everyone’s curious eyes trained on him, and he tried not to look nervous. Did they know who he was?

 

The lobby by itself could have passed for the palace of the gods, at least in Yuta’s humble opinion. The floors were all velvet carpeting and the ceilings glistened with the amount of light reflecting off of them. The crystal chandeliers were mesmerizing, but there was no time to stop and admire everything before he was led to an elevator.

 

“Master Nakamoto, top floor,” the driver informed him. “Master Lee awaits you there.”

 

“Alright,” Yuta mumbled in response. “Thank you, sir.”

 

“Song, just call me Song,” the man says with a faintly amused smile. “And there’s no need to thank me, master.”

 

It really did make him uncomfortable to be spoken of in such a manner, he decides. From being treated like a whore to being treated like… a higher being. He wasn’t sure he liked it.

 

Yuta stepped into the spacious elevator after the steel doors slid open, gently setting his bag onto the spotless floor, before selecting the option for the top floor on the panel. His palms perspired and he fidgeted as the elevator moved upward. Yuta was going to meet this new master, and whether he liked him or not wasn’t something that was in his hands.

 

The doors slid open again, and Yuta held his breath, not wanting to step out.  _ Yuta, it isn’t something you can avoid _ , he scolded himself, before mustering the courage to step outside into the dimly lit hallway.

 

At the end of the corridor was a large, heavy-looking door. There was a bright white light shining from the gap underneath, and Yuta approached it cautiously before pressing the doorbell. He couldn’t hear any sound, so he initially thought it wasn’t operating. However, gentle footsteps approached soon afterward and the door swung open.

 

“Master?” Yuta inquired, trying not to let his surprise show through. His new master was  _ anything  _ other than a crusty old man, that was for sure, which made him feel even more disconcerted, for some reason.

 

“Come in, Yuta,” the man said after a couple seconds, stepping aside to allow Yuta into the penthouse. His voice was quiet, but unwavering. 

 

There was a strange sound, almost a clicking sound, on the expensive floor. Yuta looked down, and he saw a fucking  _ jaguar _ beside his master. He unconsciously took a step backwards, nearly tripping over his bag in the process. 

 

“She won’t bite,” his master bent down, stroking her fur, “right? Don’t be scared, come in.”

 

Yuta murmured an apology and lowered his head, picking up his bag and walking into the penthouse. He strode past the large jaguar as quickly as he could, gait awkward because somewhere in the back of his head, he felt like it would chase after him and try to bite him.

 

Everything felt too rushed; he wasn’t ready for such a big change. Yuta’s nerves were jittery, and all he fucking needed right now was a pill or two. Then, he could do his job properly, he thought irritably.

 

“Follow me, let’s put away your things first. There’ll be plenty of time to explore later.”

 

Yuta’s mouth was dry when he nodded in agreement, following the man down a large hall. He was on edge, knowing that anything could happen at that time.

 

There were only a few entrances along the hallway, and he noticed that the doors were all closed. He followed the man up a flight of stairs onto a loft overhanging the floor below. There was a large bed on the loft, enshrouded with a bejeweled translucent fabric that just  _ looked  _ expensive. The entire house was tastefully designed, with minimalistic furnishing and plain walls, Yuta thought. Probably costed a lifetime, too.

 

The man remained quiet the entire time, which was extremely off-putting to Yuta. He hadn’t made a single move on him yet, which wasn’t uncommon among clients Yuta had served in the past. Perhaps he was just waiting for him to make the first move.

 

“You can put whatever you want to keep in this cabinet,” the man informed him, pointing at a white cabinet lying on the side of the room. He nodded absentmindedly in response. “However, I’ll buy you anything you might want to replace, so get rid of anything you don’t really want, Yuta.”

 

“Oh, you’re being too generous, master,” Yuta shook his head quickly. The man gave him a blank look. 

 

“I’m sure I can afford anything you want,” the man retorted wryly and crossed his arms, giving Yuta a look that bordered on amusement. He looked somewhat like a bratty child, standing in such a manner. The first word that came to Yuta’s mind was  _ drugs _ , but he held his tongue. 

 

This first meeting was  _ terribly awkward _ , he thought, as he messily put his possessions into the wooden cabinet. He had never been good with words; most of his meetings with clients involved only fucking as soon as they stepped into his room at the brothel, and as soon as they were done, they would leave immediately. This man seemed like a lonely businessman who had too much money to spend, surrounded by his oversized, expensive house and his pretentious choice of pet, if you would even consider a jaguar as a pet.

 

Yuta didn’t even know how to deal with him; the scenario was so foreign to him. He had no idea what his boundaries were, he wasn’t told  _ anything _ about this man before he was brought over.

 

All he knew is that he had a hell of a lot of money, Yuta thought, which wasn’t exactly a good place to start. He didn’t even know his name, other than the fact that his surname was  _ Lee _ . 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the comments and kudos.
> 
> \-- 
> 
> Updates will probably slow down, as things are going to get even more hectic for me starting on Tuesday, I believe. I'll try to write a little bit anytime I have any extra time to think. Hopefully, you won't have to wait too long for the next update. Thanks for your patience + support!


	3. You Come in to Look for a King

The man turned, voice fading as he walked away from him. “I’m sure… you weren’t told much about me.”

“Yeah,” Yuta admitted. “I wasn’t... master.” They walked back down the flight of stairs and the longer Yuta stared at his back, the more self-conscious he felt about himself.

“Well, first off,” the man called, “my name is Taeyong. You can call me that, starting now.” The man’s- Taeyong’s- eyes flitted over to meet his, holding him with his gaze. “You can sit here, I know you’re hungry, so I got some food before you came over. We can talk over some lunch.”

Actually, Yuta wasn’t really that hungry, but he wasn’t about to argue.

Taeyong sat down across to him on the small glass dining table, using his hands to smooth down his clothes before they got wrinkled. 

“Are you going to eat?” Taeyong asked, breaking him out of his trance. 

“I can, right?” was Yuta’s response. Taeyong nodded, pursing his lips. Frankly, it seemed like Taeyong was analyzing his every word, his every move, ever since he had arrived at the penthouse. He didn’t even know why; it was probably something about his gaze.

“No one’s going to stop you here,” Taeyong replied quietly, pointedly his chopsticks to get a piece of pork belly for himself. “Go ahead.”

They ate in silence for a while, Yuta feeling full even before his rice bowl was empty. There was a gnawing feeling in the pit of his stomach that told him Taeyong was going to ask him about things, things he knew he never wanted to talk about, but he never did. 

“Taeyong,” Yuta uttered, not even knowing where he wanted to go with that. Taeyong raised his head at that.

“Yes?”

“Why… Why did you… Purchase me?” Yuta questioned delicately. Taeyong seemed to take this question into consideration for a moment, unfazed.

“Well,” Taeyong began, putting his chopsticks down. “You see, I lead a very… unconventional domain. Would you care to guess what it might be?”

“Are you… Are you a god?” Yuta stuttered, eyes wide. Some of the other prostitutes at the whorehouse were always going on about there being gods above, and about how they would all be saved by them someday. Perhaps the day had come for him, he thought suddenly.

Taeyong let out a laugh at that which sounded more like an amused wheeze than an actual laugh before becoming composed again.

“As close as man could get,” Taeyong shrugged, an impish grin tugging at his lips. “But no, I’m a mobster, sunshine. I’m the boss now,” Taeyong continued, voice taking on a melancholy, quieter tone. “I run... Jeonghwa now.”

These words barely even registered in Yuta’s mind, and he felt even more tense than he had before. Jeonghwa, Jeonghwa, where had he heard that name before? Jeonghwa, apparently the most feared mob in South Korea? He stared back at Taeyong, not knowing how to respond. 

“Are you scared?” Taeyong inquired, posture deflating a bit. 

He shook his head slowly. Did he have a reason to be scared? They weren’t targeting him, as far as he knew, and anything was better than the whorehouse. “No… Taeyong. No, master.” He repeated once more, confidently.

“Good,” Taeyong murmured, sitting up straighter. “Tell me a little about you, now.” Their eyes locked and Yuta lowered his own gaze immediately. He wasn’t sure how to respond to Taeyong’s request.

Yuta opened his mouth, about to say something, but decided against it and shut his mouth again. He didn’t know what Taeyong wanted to hear from him.

“How did you end up at the brothel, then?” Taeyong asked impatiently, leaning back in his chair.

“When I was… in elementary school, I want to say,” Yuta began carefully, “my parents took me on vacation… here.” He vaguely gestured towards the area around him. “In this country. We came here to tour, I think. Anyways, one day, we arrived at a commercial area because my mom wanted to shop for clothes… something like that. I don’t recall what exactly happened, but I do know that my mom and dad lost me somewhere in the crowds and somebody who I thought was my dad took me. I don’t remember what happened after that…” The story felt unfamiliar on his tongue as he told it, like it was something that happened to somebody else. It sure didn’t affect him anymore; he only vaguely remembered his parents’ faces, and with that merely came a feeling of numbness.

It was strange, Yuta couldn’t help but think again. This was too unfamiliar to him. He didn’t think the deal disclosed much more than fucking. 

Taeyong’s eyes seemed almost unfocused as he listened to Yuta speak. His heavy gaze made Yuta shift around in his seat, playing with the hem of his shirt.

“Well,” Taeyong responded after a few seconds, “nobody’ll be taking you away from here, as long as we can come to terms on something.”

“What is it?” Yuta asked carefully. 

“Are you going to be loyal to me? That’s all I’m going to ask from you right now... I need absolute fidelity from you, Yuta.” Taeyong’s eyes reminded Yuta of smouldering black coals as he said that. 

“Yes,” Yuta responded seriously. He didn’t know what else he could have said, and it was probably better not to deny his request.

“...Yes, I will.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading and feel free to leave comments, kudos, and bookmarks. And as always, please submit any prompt ideas or just any thoughts you might have to my tumblr (euphemitter.tumblr.com), they are greatly appreciated!


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